


Flying Lessons

by Kiraly



Series: HogwartSSSS AU [1]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, First Meetings, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 09:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: For Muggle-born Reynir Árnason, much of Hogwarts is overwhelming and strange. He's determined to do his best - but he might need some help along the way.Onni Hotakainen has known about magic for his whole life. But other concepts, like friendship, don't come so easily to him.(More of that HogwartSSSS AU that no one asked for).





	Flying Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! Local fluff gremlin back with more magical shenanigans for these magical boys (and for everyone in the main cast regardless of whether they have magic in canon or not). 
> 
> This story takes place before my previous story [_Owl Post_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16597922) and shows how Reynir and Onni meet and become friends. I have a longer arc planned out that takes place after that fic, so I decided for the sake of clarity to put them all in a series in chronological order. Hopefully I can get the next story going soon!

**_September_ **

There was magic in the world, and Reynir Árnason was going to be part of it.

He hadn’t always known it, though. Sure, there had been incidents, but they could have happened to anyone. Maybe the sheep had turned blue after rolling in some kind of plant. Maybe he’d just gotten lucky when he fell out of the tree and didn’t even get bruised. Plenty of people had dreams that they were flying, right?

But then the owl came with a letter, and Reynir found that color changing sheep were only the beginning. He came home from the weirdest shopping trip of his life with a funny old-fashioned uniform and a stack of books that promised all kinds of fantastical things; he walked through a train station wall and waved goodbye to his parents while a lady offered to sell him candy that hopped and croaked. But the truth of it didn’t completely set in until he was standing in front of a room full of people, wearing a talking hat that rifled through his thoughts: _I’m going to learn magic._ He hoped, as the hat pronounced its decision and sent him towards a table of cheering kids under yellow banners, that he’d make some friends along the way.

The first few days weren’t easy, though. He was late for class twice because the stairs moved while he was climbing them, and he nearly crushed his foot by dropping his cauldron. Charms class was actually okay—he managed to levitate his feather without too much trouble—but then he made the mistake of practicing that charm during History of Magic and upended an inkwell all over his notes. The incident in the greenhouses could have happened to anyone, the professor assured him, which didn’t make him feel any better about derailing the whole lesson so they could coax the too-friendly vines out of his hair.

By the time his first flying class came around, Reynir was a bundle of nerves. He’d overheard his classmates talking about brooms and some mysterious sport played on them, and from the sound of it this was the class they were all looking forward to. He remembered his old dreams about flying—maybe it was a sign? Maybe, just maybe, he’d finally find something magical he was really good at.

Reynir held that hope in his heart right up until they were told to mount their brooms. At which point, the broom he was using tipped up, smacked him in the chin, and dumped him backwards onto the ground. When he sat up, groaning and shaking mud from his hair, he saw the broom flying off on its own while the other students failed to hide their laughter. The professor went off to fetch his escaped broom, and Reynir took the opportunity to slink away.

He didn’t choose his hiding spot well enough, though—yet another thing he was bad at, apparently—because it didn’t take long for someone to find him.

 _“Tergeo!”_ The word came with a weird, warm feeling and a hiss of steam; Reynir flinched and pulled his braid around to see that it was clean and dry, no trace of mud left on it or his robes. Then the same voice said: “Eeeeee! It worked!”

Reynir looked up to see a girl with short, pale hair, wand in hand and a huge grin on her round face. “What did you do?” He used his sleeve to wipe his eyes—whatever charm she’d used, it hadn’t done anything for the tears.

“It’s a cleaning charm! My grandmother uses it all the time, and I learned it too because it makes it _so_ much easier to clean my room—only I’m not supposed to use magic outside of school anymore, isn’t that awful? I wasn’t sure it would work on hair, though. If it did, my cousin would probably never take a bath again...but I guess maybe it works best on really bad messes, like all that mud.” The girl said all of this very fast, waving her hands around like she couldn’t keep still. “Anyway, hi! I’m Tuuri. First year Slytherin. Are you a muggle-born?”

Reynir blinked. He’d heard that term by now, and he knew it meant his parents had no magic. But nobody had outright asked him about it. “Uh...yeah. How did you…” He sighed. “I guess it must be really obvious. I can’t do _anything_ right.”

Tuuri plopped down next to him and balanced her wand on her knees. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that! You did great in Charms class the other day. And I think you must have a way with magical plants, you just haven’t...umm...learned to channel it yet.” She patted his shoulder. “I only asked because you kind of stand out—your hair is so _bright_ and so _long—_ and every time I see you, you look a bit lost.”

“Ha! That sounds about right,” Reynir said. “I can’t even find my way to class.” Strangely enough, saying it out loud made him feel a little better.

Tuuri waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, everybody gets lost in the castle. Sometimes I think they did it on purpose, to make us first years miserable. But hey! If you’re muggle-born, that means you know all about the muggle world, right? So you know how cars work, and tell-a-visions, and the Wide World of Webs?” She leaned forward eagerly. “Can you tell me about them?”

“I...uh…” Whatever Reynir had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “You don’t have television?” He thought about the quill and parchment he’d been using to take notes. “Wow. I guess the magical world really is different. So...you don’t know anyone else from a...muggle family?”

“Television.” Tuuri rolled the word around on her tongue. “Neat! And you’re right, you’re the first muggle-born I’ve ever met. I’m sure there are others here, but I haven’t had a chance to meet everyone.” She straightened up, and her smile took on a determined cast. “So Reynir—it’s Reynir, right? I heard the professor say it—it seems like you need some help. And I can help you! Magic culture lessons, studying, you name it. We’ll make a proper wizard of you in no time!”

Reynir’s eyes went wide. “Wow! You’d really do that for me?” Was he finally making a friend?

Tuuri smiled. “Sure! And in return, you can tell me all about muggle stuff! Everyone wins.”

That sounded more like a business deal than friendship, but Reynir wasn’t one to turn away an offer of help. And Tuuri did seem nice. “Okay! What do we do first?” He had so much to learn.

Tuuri stood up and offered her hand; when she pulled Reynir to his feet, he was surprised to see that she didn’t quite come up to his shoulder. Her personality made her seem so much...bigger. “First, we get you some extra flying practice. Come on, I know just the person to help.”

* * *

 

Magic ran the world, and Onni Hotakainen was going to learn all the best ways to use it.

His family had always been strong; their lines ran deep, back to before the wizarding community even kept records. He’d read enough history in the family archives to know that the Hotakainens had once been a force to reckon with, shaping the way magic worked and how magic users worked together. In recent years, they’d been quieter. He knew, of course, that events in his own lifetime were partly to blame. But when he looked past his grandmother, he saw a long, slow descent as his ancestors drew further and further into the shadows.

There was nothing wrong with that, objectively. In many ways it was the sensible thing, the safest option in a dangerous world. Grandmother certainly thought so. But the more Onni read, the more he pieced together glimpses of the wizarding world outside his tiny village, the more he wondered if they ought to be doing something more.

Onni’s first year at Hogwarts had been eye-opening in a lot of ways. He’d kept to himself as much as he could, spending long hours in the library. But in spite of that, he’d spent enough time around his peers to learn that there were things he _couldn’t_ learn from a book. Forces outside of his experience were at work in the world. Magic could do things he’d never dreamed possible; wizards and witches, working together, could do even more. In order to figure out how it all fit together, he had a lot of studying to do.

Which was why, when his younger sister came to bother him in the library, he wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“I’m _busy,_ Tuuri,” he said, not looking up from his book. He didn’t need to see her, he’d heard her coming. Ever since her Hogwarts letter arrived, she’d been practically vibrating out of her skin with excitement, and it hadn’t changed when she’d gotten to school. Onni was torn between two impulses: to follow her around and keep her out of trouble, or to accept that she was bound to get in trouble anyway and make sure he was prepared to deal with the consequences. After watching her nearly fall off a moving staircase because she was trying to see how it worked, he’d decided to focus on the second impulse. The table was piled with books about healing spells.

“It’s only the third day of classes, you can’t have _that_ much homework yet,” Tuuri said, shoving aside a pile of books so she could sit down. Onni did look up to glare at her then—which, judging from her smirk, was why she’d done it. She quickly adjusted her face into something more innocent, but Onni wasn’t fooled.

“What do you want?” he asked, sighing. And then, noticing the boy hovering behind her, “Who is that?” He vaguely remembered the kid from the sorting ceremony—he was the one who’d tripped on his robes and nearly fallen flat on his face. Hadn’t he been sorted into—

“This is Reynir! He’s a Hufflepuff, just like you!” Tuuri grabbed the boy’s arm and dragged him closer. “Reynir, this is my brother Onni. He’s a second year!”

“Uh. Hi!” The boy smiled and Onni suppressed a sigh. He remembered now; he’d seen Reynir join the other first years at the Hufflepuff table. He hadn’t given much thought to him other than that. School was for learning, not for making friends. But Tuuri had worn the same look when she’d begged grandma to let her keep the kittens she’d found, and when she’d convinced Onni to help her rescue a nest of orphaned baby birds. Clearly, this Reynir was her latest stray.

Instead of responding, Onni simply looked at his sister. “Tuuri...”

“We just need a little favor,” she began, “it won’t take hardly any time…”

“Tuuri...”

“I’d do it myself but I’m only a first year, we’re not allowed—”

“Tuuri!” Onni snapped his book closed. Tuuri’s mouth snapped closed, too. More gently, Onni said, “What is the favor?”

Tuuri let out a breath. “Reynir needs flying practice. He’s from a muggle family, he doesn’t _know_ how to do it, and the people in flying class laughed at him for trying.” Her mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s not _fair,_ Onni. He needs help! And I’m not allowed to have my own broom here because I’m a first year, which is _also_ unfair, so I need to borrow yours. And, uh, have you get it for me because I don’t think we can get into the broom shed.”

Onni closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. A headache was starting to form. “Is there a reason you didn’t ask the flying instructor for help? Surely she’s used to incompetent first years.”

“Hmph.” When Onni looked up, Tuuri had her arms folded and her gaze on the ground. _“She_ tried to give us detention for leaving class early. I had to talk her out of it.”

“Detention?! Tuuri—”

“Also she said we have to show improvement in the next class to make up for it,” Reynir chimed in. “Which...well, I fell off my broom this time, so as long as I don’t do that, it should be okay. Right?”

“And _that’s_ why we need to practice!” Tuuri said. “So will you do it?”

Onni opened his book again and started looking for his place. “No.”

“What? But Onni—”

“You can’t just skip class and expect me to get you out of trouble!” Onni said. “Ask the instructor to give you an extra lesson. Or find one of the Quidditch players to help you, they’re obsessed with flying.”

“Oh? And you’re not?” Tuuri lifted a book from one of the piles. “Then why do you have this book about broom magic in here, huh?”

The book on broom magic had a chapter about cushioning charms, which Onni had thought would be useful. If he could find a way to put one on Tuuri, he could keep her from breaking her neck the next time she wanted to investigate the moving stairs. Or, he acknowledged, the next time she convinced someone to loan her a broom for illegal flying lessons.

“I’m studying,” Onni said. He didn’t have to explain himself to her. She’d argue that she didn’t _need_ protection, and they’d probably get kicked out of the library. The librarian was already frowning at them; this conversation had gone on for too long. “Now will the two of you go? I have a lot to do.”

Tuuri sighed, as though he’d managed to disappoint her somehow. “Onni, I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.” She leaned in close. “If you don’t let me borrow your broom, I’m writing to Grandma and telling her you want to join the Ministry of Magic.”

Onni jerked backward. “What?” Across the room, the librarian stiffened.

Tuuri grinned. “You heard me. The charms professor was telling me _all_ about how much of a star pupil you are, and how you’ll go on to do great things someday...I’m sure I can convince him to write to Grandma and say the same thing. She’ll be soooo proud, won’t she?”

If their grandmother thought Onni wanted to join the Ministry of Magic, she’d pull him out of school so fast he wouldn’t have time to blink, law or no law. And Tuuri knew that.

“Fine.” Onni looked down at his book again; the words blurred on the page. “I’ll help you. But not now, I have to finish reading this.” He looked up into Tuuri’s smug face and Reynir’s politely confused one. “I hope your new friend is worth it.”

* * *

 

The ceiling of the Great Hall was grey with rain clouds when Reynir arrived at breakfast on Saturday morning. He sighed, already picturing how muddy the ground would be. At least it would be a soft landing when he fell off again.

When he reached the Hufflepuff table, Reynir hesitated. He usually sat with other first years because they were mostly as overwhelmed as he was. But as he made his way towards an empty seat, he spotted another familiar face. Or really, familiar hair. Onni had a book open on the table in front of him, propped up so only the top of his head was visible. Every now and then he’d reach out from behind it for his teacup.

Reynir sat down in one of the empty seats across from him. “Good morning!”

Onni flinched, slopping tea on the table. “Gah!” He moved the book out of harm’s way and glared at Reynir. “What are you doing?”

“Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, my name’s Reynir and we met yesterday—”

“I remember you,” Onni growled. “I meant, why are you sitting here?”

Reynir looked around for a napkin to clean up the mess, but as he watched the puddle of tea just—vanished. He shook his head. Magic. He still hadn’t gotten used to it. “I thought it would be nice to sit here, that’s all. This end of the table looked kind of lonely.” That much was true; there were a bunch of empty seats between Onni and the next group of students. Probably a lot of people were sleeping in.

“Hmmph.” Onni picked his book back up. “Well, I can’t stop you.” He turned his attention to the pages.

When it was clear Onni wasn’t going to continue the conversation, Reynir shrugged and helped himself to breakfast. “It looks like it’s raining pretty hard,” he said, spreading marmalade on his toast. “I hope we can still do our flying practice though. Is it harder to fly when it’s raining? Are we _allowed_ to fly when it’s raining? What do you do if—”

The book dropped just enough for Onni to glare over the top of it. “No. Questions. Before. Breakfast.”

“Sorry!” Reynir shoved a bite of food in his mouth. At least if his mouth was full, he couldn’t embarrass himself by talking.

The rest of breakfast passed quietly, though Reynir had to clamp down on all kinds of questions that kept occurring to him. As he was finishing his last bite of toast, Tuuri appeared at the table so suddenly he half suspected her of arriving by magical means.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Tuuri said. “Ready?”

Onni sighed. “Fine.” He stood up and tucked the book into his school bag. The bag didn’t seem to get any bigger or heavier—more magic?—but Reynir wasn’t sure it was okay to ask questions yet. So he added it to his list and scrambled after the other two as they left the Great Hall.

It was still raining when they reached the front door. Tuuri took one look outside and turned on her heel, grabbed them each by an elbow, and pulled them into a nearby alcove.

“What now?” Onni began, but Tuuri shushed him.

“You know a water-repelling charm, right?”

Onni scowled. “It’s forbidden to use magic in the corridors.”

Tuuri rolled her eyes. “Do you really want to hike all the way to a classroom? No one will see. And it’s _pissing_ out there.” She set her chin and glowered at her brother. He glowered right back.

Reynir couldn’t take the tension. “Um. We could...wait until the weather is better? Or I have a raincoat I could get—”

“No.” Onni broke the staring contest. “Best to get it over with.” He looked around to make sure no one was nearby, then pulled out his wand. _“Impervius,”_ he muttered, tapping all three of them on the forehead. “It won’t do much, but it’ll be easier to see where we’re going.” With that, he turned and walked out into the rain.

It was weird to walk in the rain and not get wet. Or, at least not get _totally_ wet—his clothes were soaked by the time they got to the broom shed, but his face and the top part of his hair stayed dry. He wondered if he could learn that spell; it would be really useful for looking after the sheep. First though, he had to learn how to fly.

* * *

 

Onni hated to admit it, but Tuuri was right. Reynir was _amazingly_ bad at flying. True, he’d paid ernest attention while Onni explained the basics—unlike Tuuri, whose “Ugh, Onni, no one cares about the history of brooms” had not helped—but when it came time to actually summon the broom and ride it, he seemed to be all elbows and knees. When his third attempt at raising the broom resulted in it sweeping a shower of mud all over the three of them, Reynir covered his face and groaned. And when he finally managed to raise it properly, he fell right off again.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, not bothering to lift his face from the mud. “Just leave me here. I’ll be a wizard who stays on the ground. I’ll only use brooms for sweeping.”

Onni sighed. “Don’t be stupid.” He reached down and grasped Reynir by the robes, hauling him to his feet. “Not everyone loves flying, but everyone has to learn. And this,” he said, indicating his broom where it patiently hovered, “is not for sweeping floors. It’s a sophisticated magical artifact meant to allow flight. It’s the _only reliable_ way humans can fly; there are no spells to let us just zip around in the air without one.” He made a gesture, and the broom came obediently to his hand. “Now look, brooms get used to their owners. Wands do too—they’re even more sensitive, that’s why you had to try different ones until a wand chose you. Brooms aren’t like that, but they aren’t just a piece of wood, either. This one is called a Moonglimmer.”

At Tuuri’s derisive noise, Onni broke off his lecture to glare upwards. “Do you have something to add?”

“It’s a homemade bundle of twigs that Grandma put together!” Tuuri said. She was on one of the school brooms, flying lazy circles above them. “I don’t see why she won’t let us get the new Nimbus model, it’s—”

“This broom is fine!” Onni snapped. “Grandma made it based on an antique design that revolutionized the way brooms were made. She adapted it to modern standards, it’s just as good as anything they sell at Quality Quidditch Supplies.” He held it closer and gave its bristles a fond pat. “Anyway, as I was saying, it’s no surprise that flying classes here are so hard for first-timers, you haven’t had a chance to try _any_ broom before, and they put you on cheap old brooms with shoddy workmanship.” He ignored the choked laughter from somewhere over his head. “There’s nothing you can do about that. But you can keep trying. Now get back on.”

Still sniffling a little, Reynir wiped the mud off his face. “Okay.” He took the proffered broom, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “Up!”

This time, the broom rose and sat at just the right height. Reynir let out a little squeal of delight. “I did it!”

“Sure,” Onni said. “Keep going.”

So Reynir swung his leg over the broom. With one last look at Onni— _don’t look at me, stupid, look where you’re going!—_ he pushed off the ground. He shot into the air, probably higher than he meant to go, but still better than ending up with his face in the mud. Tuuri cheered. Reynir screamed, but after a moment it turned into a whoop of joy. And below them, Onni tipped his head back and allowed himself a tiny smile.

* * *

 

Overall, it would have been a very successful flying lesson. Despite the rain, even with mud splattered all over him, Reynir was feeling pretty good about the whole thing. He was really flying! On a real magic broom! This was what he’d come to school to learn, and he was going to be great at it. All he needed was a little practice. So he hung onto the broom and did his best to steer it, trying to ignore Tuuri’s teasing and pay attention to Onni’s occasional shouted encouragement.

“Don’t let your legs flop around like that, tuck them up!”

“Keep your hands on the stick, you’re not some idiot Quidditch player!”

“Stop looking down! Why are you looking at me, look where you’re going!”

“INCOMING!”

“Wait, what?” That last one hadn’t been Onni at all. Reynir looked around frantically—there was no one else next to him, no one on the ground beside Onni. Onni was looking up, mouth open in what looked like horror, and then—

“LOOK OUT!”

Onni’s shout came too late. A streak of red whooshed by him, so close Reynir could feel the wind on his face. And then he was _really_ feeling the wind on his face, because the world tipped sideways and he was falling, falling, falling—

_CRACK_

Stars exploded behind his eyelids. Pain bloomed. The world went dark.

* * *

 

When Reynir woke up again, the first thing he noticed was that he was warm and dry. The second thing he noticed was the very loud argument happening somewhere nearby.

“—could have _killed_ him! Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic things to do—”

“I said I was sorry! How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t look up? And first years aren’t even supposed to be on brooms outside of flying class, so—”

“—just because we’re not allowed to bring our brooms doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to _practice_ , I _did_ check Onni I swear—”

“—don’t need _your_ help, if if wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!”

“Well if—”

“WOULD ALL OF YOU SHUT UP?”

Silence fell. Reynir was profoundly grateful; his head hurt. He cracked open his eyes enough to take stock of his surroundings. He was in a bed, but not the big four-poster from his dorm. There were other beds like it, made up with clean white sheets and blankets in soothing colors. And through the open door, he could see a group of people standing around.

Onni and Tuuri were there, both of them splattered with mud and rain. They faced off against a tall girl with red hair and red robes, who for some reason was holding a ball. Behind them, a huge blond man stood with his arms folded. Reynir thought he must have been the one who shouted. As the thought occurred, the man caught Reynir’s eye. Then he turned to Onni and Tuuri.

“Look, your friend has had a bad day, but he will be fine. The infirmary master said you’re allowed to stay with him, but you _have to be quiet._ It’s going to take a while for him to recover.” Turning to the red-haired girl, he said, “Sigrun, maybe it would be best if you went back to your Common Room? Too many visitors might upset him.”

Sigrun snorted. “Wow, you’re sounding awfully responsible there Madsen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were actually enjoying this hospital wing gig. Next thing you know, they’ll make you a prefect.”

The blonde—boy? He was awfully tall to be a student—grimaced. “Let us hope not. Now go on. I’m sure I’ll see you in here soon, it’s only a matter of time before you break yourself again.”

Sigrun stuck out her tongue, but she elbowed him good-naturedly on her way out. “Tell your friend I’m sorry!” she said. “I’ll come by later to apologize myself.”

“Don’t bother,” Onni grumbled, but she was already gone.

“Now, if the two of you will wait a moment, I’m going to check on the patient,” the big guy said. He walked away without waiting for a response and closed the door, blocking the other two out. When he reached the foot of Reynir’s bed, he said, “So how are you feeling?”

“Uh.” Reynir wasn’t totally sure. His head hurt, and his body felt like a mass of bumps and bruises. But he found he could sit up, and nothing hurt too much when he moved it. “Okay, I think? Did I really...fall off a broom?”

“You did,” the guy said. “Your friend managed to slow your fall a little, but you still hit your head pretty hard. Master Olsen had to put you back together.”

Reynir prodded his skull, careful not to press too hard. It _seemed_ to be in one piece. “So that’s...it? I got hurt and now I’m...magicked better? And sorry, but...who are you, if you’re not the infirmary master?”

“Ah, right.” He held out a hand. “Mikkel Madsen. Ravenclaw, fourth year. I’ve been...assigned to help out in the Hospital Wing. Mostly that means keeping over-excited visitors from bothering the patients.”

“Oh.” Reynir craned his neck to look toward the door, where Onni and Tuuri were hopefully still waiting on the other side. “I don’t think they’ll bother me. I want to talk to them.”

Mikkel nodded. “As long as they’re quiet.”

As soon as Mikkel let them in and left the room, Tuuri flung herself at him. “I’m so sorry! I saw her coming, but I was too busy staring because _wow that flying,_ and by the time I realized you didn’t see her it was too late!”

Reynir patted the top of her head awkwardly. “It’s, uh, it’s okay! I didn’t know what was happening at all, it was just an accident.” He looked past her to Onni, who hovered by the end of the bed looking uncomfortable. “Are you both all right? I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Tuuri launched into a rambling reassurance, but Reynir kept looking at Onni. He had his arms wrapped around himself, gripping his sleeves so tightly the knuckles were white. Every time Reynir tried to meet his eyes, he looked away.

“Onni, Mikkel said my friend tried to slow my fall. Was that you?”

Onni’s ears turned red. “Yes. It didn’t work.”

“But it did!” That was Tuuri, finally letting go of Reynir. “I was watching from the air, you kept him from hitting the ground. It was amazing!” She transferred her hug—and a quantity of mud—to her brother. Onni only sighed and looked resigned.

“Well, I really appreciate it,” Reynir said. “I think I would have gotten hurt much worse if you hadn’t been there.” He smiled. “And I’m glad you two waited with me. It’s nice to have friends here.”

If anything, Onni looked even more embarrassed, but Tuuri beamed. “I’m glad we’re friends too! And glad you’re okay. But we should probably get going...I think that Mikkel guy is going to be mad when he sees all the mud we tracked in. See you in class!” She headed for the door, towing Onni behind her.

“Hey, uh—”

At Reynir’s words, Onni paused in the doorway. “Yes?”

Suddenly shy, Reynir fiddled with the end of his braid. “Will you come back sometime?”

Onni stared at him. “Um. Sure.” Then he turned and followed Tuuri out.

Reynir sank back on the pillows. His head still hurt, but his heart felt lighter than it had in days. _Friends._

* * *

 

On Monday morning, Onni hid behind his book and did his best not to sulk over his eggs and toast. He knew he shouldn’t be bothered—he _wasn’t_ bothered—but after the chaos of the weekend, the return to normal routine felt...strange.

He’d tried to visit Reynir in the Hospital Wing on Sunday, but when he and Tuuri arrived with an armload of school books, they were told Reynir was asleep. And when he’d stopped by this morning, the bossy fourth-year who worked there informed him that Reynir had been released last night and was probably on his way to breakfast. Onni knew he should leave it alone, should feel relief that Reynir was fine and now everything would go back to normal. But he couldn’t get rid of the lingering sense of guilt.

It was probably for the best. He had so much to learn, and running around after idiots on brooms wouldn’t make his exams any easier. Last year had been fine, just him and his books in the corner of the library where no one ever went. This year would be the same, and all the rest of his years at Hogwarts. He’d learn everything he could, and nothing would distract him.

Armed with that thought, Onni managed to read one whole paragraph before someone sat down in the seat across from him.

“Remember me?”

The guilt returned in full force; before he could stop himself, Onni looked over the edge of his book and said, “I’m sorry.” He’d meant to go on and explain that he really had tried to visit the Hospital Wing again, but stopped when he saw Reynir’s face. He was _smiling,_ looking far too cheerful for the early hour and the bruises on his skin. Onni frowned, playing the words back in his head. “Wha—of course I remember you! How many other people have almost _given me a heart attack_ by falling off a broom?”

Reynir blushed. “Oh, right, that. But look! I’m all better now, they said I’m allowed to go back to class.” He shoveled food onto his plate. “Thanks for bringing me those books, by the way, Mikkel gave them to me when I woke up. I couldn’t get everything done because it was hard to focus, but at least this way the professors will know I tried.”

Onni nodded. “You don’t want to get too far behind. You’re learning the basics right now, and everything else will be built on top of that.” He hesitated. Clearly, Reynir wasn’t upset that he he hadn’t visited, and he didn’t seem to hold a grudge about the whole broomstick incident. He could just leave it at that. But...he didn’t have to. “If you get stuck, you can ask me. If you want.”

“Really?” Reynir’s face lit up. “I was going to ask Tuuri to study with me, but we can only meet up in the library, and sometimes I like to read in the common room—and I didn’t want to bother you, but you _do_ know a lot.” He took a bite of toast, chewed for a minute, then added, “Hey, you’re talking to me before breakfast is over!”

Onni hid his face behind the book again. It felt like his mouth wanted to twist into a smile, which was the last thing he wanted Reynir to see. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to me. At home I just chatter on in the morning, can’t seem to stop. But you can just ignore me, I promise I won’t get mad.” That said, Reynir went back to putting food in his mouth.

Yes, it was definitely a smile. Onni lifted his teacup to cover it. “All right.”

* * *

 

**_June_ **

Onni turned to the last page in his Defense Against The Dark Arts notes and glanced at the clock. It was late; he should probably go to bed soon if he wanted to be well-rested for his exams. He’d been telling himself that for the last hour. But moving would mean waking Reynir up, so he kept sitting where he was, studying just one more page.

Second year had taught Onni so much. He’d pushed himself even harder than his first year, staying in the library until the librarian kicked him out. Every piece of information he learned seemed to unlock three more ideas to look into. Onni couldn’t wait to see what the next year would hold.

But he hadn’t only learned from his books and his professors. He’d discovered, to his bewilderment and occasional annoyance, that offering to help a struggling first year would somehow land him with a social circle. Not that he was _friends_ with most of the people Reynir dragged into his life—he mostly put up with the other confused first years who came to him for remedial History of Magic lessons, and he only went to Sigrun’s “Quidditch 101” sessions to keep Reynir and Tuuri from getting killed. But he had to admit, after a year of late-night studying and one-sided breakfast conversations, that he was indeed friends with Reynir.

Apparently Reynir’s friendship meant a total relaxation of personal boundaries, because this wasn’t the first time he’d fallen asleep on Onni while they were supposed to be studying. By now, Onni was resigned to it; he’d stay where he was until he was finished studying or got too tired to continue, then shake Reynir awake and send him to bed. Since the words on the page were starting to blur together, he’d probably have to do that soon.

Onni settled his notes into an orderly pile and started to gather up as many books as he could without moving. But as he reached for his quill where it had fallen between the sofa cushions, the head leaning on his shoulder stirred.

“Mmmph. Five more minutes?” Reynir muttered.

A breath of a laugh escaped Onni. “More like five hours, but you have to get up and walk to your bed first.” He nudged Reynir just enough to get him sitting up.

“Oh.” Reynir blinked, yawned, tried to lay his head on Onni again. “Can’t I stay here? ‘m supposed to study.”

Onni pushed him away and stood up. “No, we’re done studying. Come on. We have exams tomorrow.”

“Exams.” Reynir let Onni pull him to his feet. “Right. I...sorry, I fell asleep on you again, didn’t I?” He was starting to sound more awake

“It’s fine.”

Reynir bent to gather his own study materials into an untidy pile. “Mmm. Exams tomorrow. And then we’re free! And then...summer.”

Summer. It was weird to think about it. There were plenty of books to read at home, but...this year, that didn’t feel like enough.

“I’ll miss you,” Reynir said, a candid echo of the path Onni’s thoughts were heading down. “Over the summer. It won’t be the same without you.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, then caught Onni in a sudden hug.

“Yeah,” Onni said, once he’d gotten over the shock. “I suppose I’ll miss you too.”

 


End file.
